


My Jealousy Shapes Faults that are not

by Tigresse



Series: JohnLock AU [4]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dubious Consent, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Jealous John Watson, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Can a third person break up a relationship or is it jealousy that's responsible





	1. Chapter 1

  


When John stepped into the bedroom at their ranch farmhouse, he saw Sherlock sitting naked in front of the large dressing table mirror, all lights turned on, setting his curls with spray and gel. He could smell the strawberry scent from the hallway outside, and the damp, flushed skin of his young sexy boyfriend was delicious as a gourmet meal after a year of eating prison food.

 

“Wearing a tux tonight?” John asked, taking off his coat and tie and leaving his leather briefcase ( _a present from Sherlock_ ) on the bed.

 

“Yeah the same stuff,” Sherlock said with an air of nonchalance as he went on setting his dark brown curls, “Some sort of a dress code. But I suppose it makes you happy Jawn. You like wearing tuxes and you like to see me squirming uncomfortably in one, the horror of confining my body in something others would like to see me in.” He leaned forward a little, presenting his bubble butt more prominently to his domestic partner, the cleft between the perfect cheeks opening up a little but still not offering a glimpse of the pinkish reddish pucker that was hidden in their shallow depths.

 

“I like to see you squirming when you’re on my cock,” John walked up behind him and kissed his shoulder blades, “When I am not moving and you’re begging me with your eyes for some quick relief.”

 

“Is that so?” Sherlock gave a crooked smile.

 

“Seen that a few times, so I know what I like,” John caressed the butt that was presented sweetly to him.

 

“If only we had time…..”

 

“We do have time.”

 

“No, John, we will be late….”

 

“And the penalties for being late are?”

 

Their eyes met in the mirror, John literally on his tiptoes to look properly over his boyfriend’s shoulder. He could feel the little tremors of arousal running through that nubile, young, sensuous body as Sherlock pressed back against his still clothed torso. “Nothing really, it’s a charity dinner and as long as we make our contributions we will be fine,” he admitted with more than a little casualness but John could hear the thrum beneath, that slight hoarseness in his voice that indicated a desire to be claimed in a dirty, quick way.

 

“How about I take you against the wall? With just my cock out and fully clothed otherwise?”

 

“Jawn! Oh!”

 

“That gets you hard I see.”

 

“We have to make it quick.”

 

A few minutes later, a lube slick cock was up Sherlock’s arse as the taller man clutched at John like a drowning man to a lifeboat. John held up one of his long legs, fingers clasped at the soft skin behind his thighs, so he could have easy and convenient access to the innermost, tender most part of Sherlock, a spot only he had access to. John was already close from seeing Sherlock in a state of nudity and now being buried inside him with minimum prep made him nearly fall over the edge as he made the first few short and shallow thrusts in there.

 

“FUCK,” Sherlock moaned as he felt the first nudge to his chestnut shaped spot.

 

“Right there?” John asked, his other hand on Sherlock’s cock that had a trickle of pre-cum oozing out of the piss slit.

 

“Keep doing it, you’re doing a good job baby,” Sherlock threw his head back and keened.

 

John repeated the movements but didn’t let it become monotonous. Sherlock, like a true child of nature and freedom and spontaneity, didn’t do too well if subjected to something repetitive. Unless it was cuddling of course, or their positions in bed when they slept, there he had his favourite moments and expected things to remain the way they were.

 

“Oh yeah,” Sherlock let out a high pitched wail, then clasped his mouth in shock. He let go of John and nearly keeled off sideways but the doctor’s strong hands kept him in position and he gratefully resumed holding on to his man a few seconds later.

 

“Don’t worry baby boyfriend,” John said with a dollop of sarcasm, “Eva is used to your distress signals so much that she probably would come running sooner if you laughed out too loud instead.”

 

“Asshole,” Sherlock groaned as his prostate was brushed again, “Keep doing this and….”

 

“And?”

 

“I’ll cum.”

 

“Do it.”

 

“Oh yeah, oh fuck, John, Jawwwnn, it’s coming, can’t stop it, I’m gonna…..” and the pitiful wailing and moaning started right away. Sherlock got louder and louder as John fucked him hard and stroked him at the same time, keeping him in position by supporting him with his full body. Sometimes John’s strength, stamina and resilience surprised them both and they were glad for it, because the good doctor was the stabilizing factor in their relationship, literally and theoretically.

 

A sharp intake of breath, a loud cry of his name and warmth splashing on to his fingers and shirt made John smile with hungry satisfaction and give in to his own urges. Sherlock had cum hard, just as he had promised he’d make Sherlock cum with their quickie, and now he gave free rein to his own needs. In a few thrusts he was coming too, shooting all he had up that toned ass and the delicious tight passage that clamped down on him with all its might.

 

“Ohhh,” Sherlock sighed out with bliss and relief and let his head loll to one side. Then he drew John closer and buried his face in John’s neck.

 

John could feel Sherlock’s body slowly sagging in his arms, something he knew happened when the man needed a nap or some rest for his limbs and brain, preferably after having sex with John. Unfortunately, he couldn’t allow his man this little privilege at this point since the clock showed it was already six thirty pm. “Wakey wakey my sleeping beauty,” John said as he swatted his lover playfully on the hip and winced a bit as he slid himself out of the warm hot anal canal, “If we don’t get ready now we will be unpardonably late, no longer fashionably late.”

 

“Yeah I know.”

 

“Your curls are spoiled.”

 

“All _your fault_.”

 

John grinned as he watched Sherlock wobble his way towards the bathroom to wash up. But that grin faded as he stepped off the eighteen-inch-tall foot stool he was standing on, to balance out the difference in their heights as they fucked in that standing position.

 

He knew he would never admit this to anybody, not even to his Sherlock, but sometimes he wished he was taller and could horse around a bit more with his lover, or simply not have to use a foot stool for intimate moments like these. It made him feel a trifle……inadequate.

 

***

 

The dinner was excellent, though John felt the combinations of various foods from different world cuisines had not gone too well together, so he chose to sample only three of the seven courses and take extra helpings of them.

 

Sherlock as usual nibbled on his food and subsisted on intellectual stimulation, love and fresh air.

 

The auction started and that was when John’s eyes fell on the man named Sebastian Augustus Moran. Though invited to their Thanksgiving lunch a few months ago, Sherlock’s Uni mate had declined at the last moment citing some personal issues he had to resolve. John had never asked Sherlock about that and Sherlock had never explained. But he did remember Sherlock talking to others and marveling about how good Sebastian was on the football field and just how excellent he was at the shooting range.

  


John decided that every other accomplishment of Sebastian Moran paled in comparison to the looks and aura he had.

 

He was clearly the _poster boy for a rock jock_ , a man who was brainy enough to be part of intellectual pursuits and someone who could be the soul of a party without sacrificing or exaggerating his machismo.

 

With stylish blond hairs worn short at the back and longer bangs in front, deep and bright blue eyes that shone like wells of light on a conventionally handsome face, a build that stretched to six feet four inches of firm sinew and tanned golden skin, and a smile that could easily go from wooing to wolfish in seconds, he was the quintessential Casanova that could stalk women at parties and end up with all of them in his bed in an orgy. John took solace from the fact that this man didn’t ping his gaydar and would probably never look away from pussy long enough to like cocks. But at the same time John measured himself as ten inches shorter than this man and about five and half inches shorter than Sherlock.

 

The auction went on merrily and John and Sherlock bought a painting for three thousand dollars. It was a nice painting, not that great, but at the end of the day it was for a good cause and they didn’t mind the price. John noticed how Sebastian bought a sculpture for five grand and acted as one of the best auctioneers he had seen, ever. He also couldn’t help but notice how Sherlock clapped hard and long for him when the event was over.

 

As they were leaving, Sherlock waded through the crowd and spoke to Sebastian for a few minutes. John observed from a distance and wondered if he should join them but since Sherlock had made no move to introduce the two of them he held back.

 

“I’m tired but in a good way,” Sherlock yawned as they drove back.

 

“Thank God I had only one glass of champagne,” John said as he ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, “You are really a bit out of it.”

 

“Four glasses, the last two went down too quickly,” Sherlock giggled.

 

“Not much food to accompany them, I can see where the light-headedness comes from.”

 

“You’re here to look after me.”

 

“Listen, Sebastian Moran, is he in the same class as you? I mean, is he older, younger?”

 

“Same age, in fact a month older. I am Capricorn, he is a Sagittarius born. He’s studying economics with statistics, mathematics and computer science as his additional subjects.”

 

“Twenty years old, so young. Look at me, at thirty-one, so old.”

 

“Don’t be daft Jawn,” Sherlock said as he laid his head on John’s shoulder disarmingly and closed his eyes with another elaborate yawn, “One is as young as they feel and as old as they want to be. Wake me up when we are home, I’m going to shut my eyes for a while.”

 

John drove on in silence but couldn’t help but reminisce a few moments from the gala charity dinner they had attended. Sherlock’s friends were so young, so full of life, flushed with the vitality of youth, people who had their terrific twenties ahead of them. He couldn’t believe his twenties were over and that phase of his life when one was old enough to be on their own but young enough to still be romantic and optimistic, was actually behind him now. In a decade’s time he would reach middle age.

 

_Fucking middle age._

 

***

 

“You heard about Dr Oppenheimer and his wife Margot,” Molly Hooper, John’s official gossip journalist in the hospital, filled him in as usual during their shared lunch break. Usually John had a quick lunch on the go or with one of the three other surgeons he worked closely with, but on days when they weren’t free Molly sometimes joined him. He didn’t mind that and when she talked to him about various rumors and speculations going on, he took them with a pinch of salt. It wasn’t a bad idea to be in the know about what was on in the corridors and chambers and even the seat of power on the top floor where the department heads, chief administrator and the Managing Director of the Sotheby group of hospitals usually held office.

 

But that day she said something that shook him up a bit. “No, what about them?” He asked, only half-interested.

 

“Margot Oppenheimer was having an affair with her Uni sweetheart,” Molly lowered her voice, “Can’t blame her. She was just thirty-two and Oppenheimer is forty-six. They must be two different generations altogether. From what I have heard, she wasn’t seeing that man when they were younger but when they reconnected it was a spark that lit up between them and shoved poor Oppenheimer out of the picture like a fly from an ointment. Too bad, the poor gynecologist is a good man and really loved his wife of ten years. Maybe if he had given her more time…..”

 

John filtered out the rest. _His hands were shaking by then_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson's demons start lashing their tails

A week passed and John had almost forgotten the juicy little gossip about Oppenheimer, but as they say, when something has to happen they do. One could avoid the swordsman and take a different route, only to have him waiting there for you.

 

As John was returning from a trip to the factory, having dropped off his sister to her place close by, he saw Sherlock outside the ranch limits. He was in his biking overalls, the tight black ones which hugged every curve of his ass, thighs and back, and talking to someone in similar but more colourful yellow and blue biking overalls.

 

Both men were perched on their mountain bikes, bare knees almost touching, totally engrossed in the conversation they were having. Since they wore helmets, John couldn’t quite figure out who the other man was but he was surprised nonetheless that Sherlock even had a biking buddy. For a moment he thought about just driving past them and into the ranch but his curiosity got the better of him and he came to a slow, rolling halt inches from the two. Even then Sherlock didn’t seem to notice and he was talking in an animated manner that defied his usual habits. Hand gestures, light touches on the other man’s arm, the other man touching his finger for a moment.

 

John rolled down the window, “Hello there.”

 

“Jawwnn.”

 

“Hey, wazzup?”

 

Sherlock was smiling brightly which was rather unusual for a serious faced and somewhat isolated man like him. “Just returning from a sixty-mile ride. School’s out and it gets boring. So I asked Seb to come along, he is a fitness freak of sorts and this is his daily fare. Seb, meet my partner John. He is a surgeon and also the owner of this ranch. The man I have been with for a year and half, actually for twenty odd months now.”

 

The helmet came off and John had to fight off the look of mild horror from his face. Sebastian Augustus Moran, _SebfuckingMoran_. In the flesh! Right here! At his doorstep and with his fabulous and young boyfriend, acting like they had been besties for a long time.

 

Or maybe they had been besties for a while, still were.

 

“Hello John.”

 

A big strong hand shook his own and John emerged from the car and instantly regretted it. As he stood, he was almost the same height as Sebastian seated on his bike. “Hello Sebastian. How have you been?”

 

“Pretty good,” came the cheerful response.

 

“By the way,” Sherlock interjected, “He is now a neighbor.”

 

John frowned and tilted his head slightly, as if trying to process that information. He was also noting with deep pangs of insecurity that Sherlock seemed to have an air of excitement about him, as if he was suffused with pleasure to see Sebastian move closer to them and available for company at short notice.

 

“Mr and Mrs Wray,” Sebastian said, “Are my uncle and aunt. Since they have no children, I am also their adopted son.”

 

As if that was not enough to twist the knife into his gut, Sherlock jumped in again and began to talk about Sebastian. It seemed as if he was trying to ‘hard sell’ this friend of his as an honorable, desirable and excellent man. “Sebastian’s father is British, he is an Earl there and a Lord,” the curly haired brunette exclaimed, “Currently a member of the House of Lords. His mother is American and she lives in the east coast, New York City in fact, and manages their business interests there. John, Seb is heir to fortunes exceeding a hundred and fifty million dollars and he is also a select into this year’s Olympics. Fifty meter rifle and twenty-five meter rapid fire.”

 

“Wow,” was all John could manage. He was far too busy in his head, making plans to get Sherlock away from this ‘perfect young man’, to sufficiently praise Sebastian as a young achiever.

 

“I’ll compete for England,” Sebastian added.

 

John stayed silent and just looked at the tall man. Up close, he looked even better than he had on stage during that auction. Toned, ripped, deep voice, bedroom eyes, he was surely a goldmine, or a jackpot, to whoever would finally get to walk him down the aisle. Sherlock shifted from foot to foot as he looked at his boyfriend’s blank face, his lips moving as if to say ‘say something, don’t just stand there, say something’.

 

“You my friend happen to be a brilliant man,” John finally found the words and decided to end Sherlock’s misery, “Brilliant at organizing auctions, bike rider, fitness enthusiast, impressive academic credentials, an Olympian, is there anything you cannot do?”

 

“Can’t bake,” Sebastian laughed.

 

“You can’t confront either,” Sherlock guffawed.

 

“Oh c’mon Sherl, I can’t confront certain people, that’s all.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

John stared in dismay at the open and easy camaraderie the two of them shared and cringed slightly when he heard the nickname ‘Sherl’ roll off Sebastian’s lips. Wasn’t that supposed to be his nickname for his boyfriend? But then he had never said he wouldn’t want anyone else to use it so….. “Come over someday and have dinner with us, drinks before that of course,” he said half-heartedly, hoping for a decline.

 

“This weekend then,” Sebastian grinned and looked at his watch, “Thanks John, I shall see you guys at seven, or earlier, do text me and let me know what time suits you. Well, I gotta go now. Nice meeting you John and see ya Sherl.”

 

Tapping Sherlock’s nose in a goodbye gesture, he pedaled away hard and soon disappeared down the road. “He radiates charm and energy from every pore,” John commented, hating himself for the way he was allowing waves of unnecessary despair roll over him.

 

Sherlock mounted the bike on the back of John’s car and hopped in, arching his back as he tried to adjust the seat of his cycling shorts. “He joined us a little late, he wasn’t there at the beginning of the first semester. Transferred from Caltech, had to start with new courses all over again. The year he saved by not going for a gap year, he lost because he had a fallout. It wasn’t expulsion or something, just he walking away from something he could no longer take. I guess that even the best of men have their limits, limits which when pushed cause them to break down or walk away without a backward glance.”

 

“What happened really?”

 

“He never talks much about it. Guess a breakup.”

 

“Moving away from a promising career, academics or situation in life over a broken heart. Doesn’t seem a very manly thing to do in my opinion.”

 

“Says the surgeon who stopped being a surgeon?”

 

That bit a chunk out of his heart and even though the logic was perfect there, the doctor felt hurt by the way his boyfriend had hit on his sore spot to uphold the honour of a friend. John went into deathly silence after that while Sherlock, oblivious to John’s dilemma, said that he would be busy the next three days since Andersen had asked his help to solve a complex murder that had happened in a town called Abram, southwest of the capital city of Austin.

 

***

 

“Oppenheimer has been given two months off to sort himself out,” Molly said as she served John his coffee, “Man is a wreck.”

 

“We better focus on our work Molly,” John said with an air of indifference.

 

She didn’t seem to even hear him as she continued her outpour of information. “It was partly his fault for not keeping up with the times. He should have visited the gym more often, taken the lovely Margot out for dinner and to nice holidays on the beach, thrown at least one weekend party a month, you know…..all those things you need to do to keep the spark going in your relationship. He was so busy here, they had no kids to strengthen their bonds and sometimes he didn’t even return home at night, choosing to sleep in the tiny apartment he rents across the street……”

 

John zoned out at that point. His body remained there while his mind drifted over to some really dark corners.

 

God, could there be more similarities between his life with Sherlock and those of the Oppenheimer’s?

 

In the past three weeks Sebastian had become a regular feature in their lives. When he had showed up for dinner, John had made it a point to invite Harriet and Lucy as well so there were more people around to keep their blond guest engaged in conversations. To his horror, he had found that all the women, including Eva, and Sherlock, were crowded around Sebastian as he narrated tales of his trip to India and the fabulous wildlife he had encountered in the jungles there. He had even had the privilege of shooting a man-eater in the Ranthambore forest, a cat that had been commissioned to be killed due to its constant preying on the nearby villages. Impressive for someone who was eighteen then. He also spoke about cricket, the forthcoming Olympics, various war weapons and the British royal family, proving himself to be a young achiever, a charming storyteller and young society gentleman rolled into one.

 

Since then the young man routinely made an appearance every few days at their place. On days he did not, he saw his texts land on Sherlock’s phone and Sherlock texted him replies as soon as he could do so. Sometimes John noticed Sherlock talking on his phone while he paced up and down in their garden or beside their pool. When he asked him later, he was never given an honest or straight answer. It was always ‘Oh nothing important, nothing about me or any case’.

 

Was he making the same mistake as Oppenheimer? Not giving time to Sherlock? Not doing enough to preserve the spark in their lives? Was that the reason why Sebastian was gaining so many inroads into their home and surroundings?

 

“……..That fellow was over to their house every weekend,” Molly was going on, obviously not aware that John had hardly heard her after the first few sentences, “Then he started coming over when the doc was not home, then the wife began to go over and bam, it’s on!”

 

“What?” John blinked.

 

“I said….”

 

“ _Never mind_ , let’s get back to work.”

 

***

 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Sherlock arched his back as he held position on all fours on the bed, graceful and elegant as a feline, “That feels so good!”

 

John was moving the dark green vibrating dildo in and out of Sherlock while he jerked him off with a slippery but light hand. “I’ll make it even better baby,” he said possessively, planting sucking kisses on both of his boyfriend’s buttocks.

 

Sherlock shivered and pushed back, earning himself a slap on the butt for disobeying John. He tried to touch himself but couldn’t, not unless he wanted to topple down on his face because John was picking up the tempo now, fucking him harder and faster with the toy, nudging and grazing his prostate with every thrust, the vibrations spreading delicious sensations all over the lower part of his body. He gripped the sheets and let out a strangled cry, orgasm rushing up overwhelmingly, making his ears buzz and his vision turn into a red haze of sorts.

 

John watched Sherlock come apart, shrieking and shuddering as usual, head and back arched as if he was a high-strung bow just waiting to be unleashed. His pale skin flushed pink, beads of sweat on his forehead and his curls now unruly and dishevelled, he looked likt he most exquisite sight John had ever seen. If he could write poetry he would have written volumes on this man and perhaps converted one or two into soulful songs.

 

“How easily you made me your slave Sherl, my little wizard,” he hissed as he pulled the toy out and replaced it with his cock, then reversed their positions so Sherlock was now lying on his side and John spooned up behind him. Sherlock couldn’t answer, he made a ‘hnnngggg’ sound and his body shook spasmodically as John picked out another toy and rubbed the vibrating head all over Sherlock’s still hard cock, giving the glans special treatment. Sherlock had a sore throat by then from too much screaming, as was evident from the way he moaned loudly but failed to produce too much sound, and John watched him with satisfaction as the younger man began to move towards another climax.

 

“Ah…..” Sherlock went, “Oh…..aahhh…..” then ‘ohhhh’ again. His body was coiling up, his fingers twitching and grabbing at John’s hips to push him in even deeper.

 

Their mouths met in a passionate kiss and John licked the roof of Sherlock’s mouth, as if claiming every inch of it for himself. Sherlock allowed that, thoroughly enjoying this ‘claiming’, his soft pants and pleasure ample evidence of how much he loved this.

 

By the time Sherlock came again, he passed out. John followed him soon enough and after he’d come with a groan, he stayed inside for as long as he could. He caressed the nubile, young, smooth body of his lover, feeling the fine hairs on the chest and calves, the now softened nipples, the long dick that was now in its natural state and those lovely curls that almost obscured half of Sherlock’s face. “I love you,” John whispered, fully aware that Sherlock was not listening, “Don’t ever leave me please.”

 

He hated this feeling of uncertainty and insecurity, he simply detested it. But at the same time he didn’t see much competition he could offer when it came to a Sebastian Moran. That was man was everything he was not.

 

Yet, at the same time, he found no reason to hate that young man. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t do it.

 

_He was confused as fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first problem of a May-December romance is insecurity and the second one is jealousy! What will happen now?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John starts to 'see' things everywhere.

“John.” 

“Yeah Sherlock?” 

Sherlock was in the walk-in closet and getting clothes and matching accessories out for himself. They had been invited for a barbeque dinner at Mr and Mrs Fray’s homestead next door and John felt appalled by the enthusiasm and excitement Sherlock showed about attending this dinner. Normally unimpressed by society events or dinner and luncheon invites from friends and neighbours, this particular one seemed to suffuse Sherlock with a thrilling shiver, as was evident from the moment Sebastian’s text had arrived. He had sent a text to John too and John had replied politely but……Sherlock was bouncing for the past three days and nights now. 

“Should I wear this, semi-formal stuff, or this one, smart casual clothes?” Sherlock held up the items on each arm. 

On one he had a blue suit with a cream coloured shirt and a scarf and on the other he had a nice pair of form fitted denims with a lemon-yellow shirt and a casual ripped denim jacket. His eyes held the same sparkle he got when he had done well at Uni and gotten a word of recommendation from the dean or when he assisted the local police with a complex case. “Which one should I wear John?” He asked again, patiently and eagerly. 

//At least he wants me to choose, my choice matters to him//

“The denims Sherl.” 

“Good, I will be ready in ten minutes. My hair okay?” 

“It’s always good. I love the way you wear your hair.” 

“Yay! Get ready John, we are getting late.” 

John felt a bit offended. Since when did Sherlock bother about being punctual. “It’s not due to start in another thirty minutes and we are only a five-minute drive away from their farmhouse.” 

“Yeah yeah that is true,” Sherlock dropped the towel he was wearing and began to get into his black boxers. 

“Time for a quickie?” John felt a rise between his legs, instantly. 

“Noooo,” Sherlock protested, pulling on his jeans quickly on top of his underwear, “I keep limping for hours after that and Seb will tease me to death about it. He already thinks I have become a horn dog, some sort of a sexed-up monster that need cock thrice a day!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t bother about what Seb thinks,” John grumbled. 

“I don’t,” Sherlock started buttoning up his shirt, “But hurry up now.” 

Only when they were sitting in the car did John notice that Sherlock had taken his violin along. They had bought a violin after the incident several months ago when Mary had tried to kill Sherlock with a new violin whose strings were coated with a deadly poison. John enjoyed hearing Sherlock play, especially on days he was calm or when he was playing it after solving a case. Those days the notes were warm, mellifluous, soothing, thought provoking. On days Sherlock was bored, the violin sounds were more like a cacophony and could drive anybody mad with annoyance. But Sherlock had never played anywhere outside of their home. 

“What’s this?” He asked, starting the car. 

“Violin,” came the response. 

“I know violin, but why are you taking it there?” 

“Seb said we should entertain the gathering a bit. He plays the guitar and I play the violin, in turns of course.” 

“Oh I see, I um….I don’t know how to play any instrument.” 

Damn, he thought, why did I even make such a silly statement? Sherlock caught it immediately and said with an air of insouciance, “That’s no problem really. None of us can do surgery either. We have different talents, different strokes for different folks, right?”

“Yeah right.” 

Once they reached there, John’s worst nightmares came true. He had hoped that the large gathering would mean Sebastian and Sherlock would have little time together but he discovered, much to his indignation, that there were only six more guests besides them and nobody as young as Sebastian or Sherlock. In fact everyone was in their fifties, leaving John half way between the older group and Sebastian and Sherlock who had begun to chat exclusively with each other. 

And Sebastian was popular. Everyone tried to talk to him. 

“Seb, how do you make this guacamole? It’s awesome.” 

“Sebastian, you need to teach me how to make martinis like this? Delicious, I am not going to be able to stop at two this evening.” 

“Oh dear me Seb, you play the guitar so well. How is the Olympics preps going? I wish you were playing for us, for US I mean.” 

“Sebby, come and sit with us, let’s talk about your rifle and pistol shooting practice. Two gold medals for sure huh?” 

“Sebastian how about that song?” 

The blond young man relented and picked up his guitar again, strumming up a nice country beat as he began to sing a few songs about home, love and peace in the world. His talent was not at a professional musician’s level but even John had to admit he was quite good at it, enthralling the little audience with his honey and gravel voice and the matching sounds from his guitar. At one point, he had forgotten the lyrics and turned to Sherlock with a wince. Sherlock immediately whispered the lyrics to him and he continued the song, making John squirm and shift and shake his legs restlessly as he barely managed to stay in his chair. 

Mrs Wray came to sit with John after a while. 

“You seem awfully quiet tonight,” she observed. 

“Just tired after a long day,” John answered, feeling guilty for lying. 

“Seb’s presence has brightened up our lives considerably,” she continued and John almost groaned. Was there no way of escaping a mention about this man? “But he will be gone for a month for the Olympics and we’ll miss him so much. He was supposed to be in England for his training but he’s opted to train with his personal coach here, because he didn’t want to leave Texas yet. I am sure it’s something to do with the matters of the heart. You know how young people in love are!” 

John clammed shut after that. No more proof needed. Sebastian wanted to stay close to Sherlock and Sherlock seemed equally happy to have him around. 

That night, as they went to bed, Sherlock turned to face the other side. John frowned immediately. “Come over here,” he demanded, “Lie down with your head on my chest, the way you usually do.” 

“Pulled a shoulder muscle that side,” Sherlock mumbled, half asleep, “Not com’t’ble.” 

“But then I can lie on the other side, Sherlock….Sherl….?” 

Sherlock had already fallen asleep. 

***

A week later John was shell shocked when he walked into the house and saw Sebastian, Harriet, Lucy and Sherlock sitting in the living room and having an intense discussion about something. The moment he walked in, Sherlock came up to kiss him while Lucy and Harry gave him tight hugs. Sebastian shook his hand and gave him a one arm hug too and once again John measured himself up against this Adonis. 

He felt rather small, in every way. 

“You must have forgotten by now, busy as you are,” Harry said with a dollop of affection, “But dear brother, next week Lucy and I are about to become parents to a little girl. We decided to adopt a girl-child remember? Yes, they have decided to give her to us three months in advance. We were looking for baby girl names and since you’re so good with names, why not suggest one for our little angel? Lucy and I would be very delighted if you become her Godfather as well.” 

John felt elated by that news and was glad there would be the patter of young feet at his sister’s place. “Yeah sure, goes without saying, I am honoured.” Lucy immediately held his hand and led him to the couch, looking at him imploringly, “We have consulted a numerologist for this baby’s name. You know I am a firm believer in those things and so is Harry. According to him, the girl’s name must begin with N and be at least six letters or more. But less than ten letters of course. Please, let’s look at a few choices right away since we are all here.” 

“Um sure….Nancy?” 

“Too short.” 

“Nyomi?” 

“Short again.” 

“Nicole?” 

“Too common.” 

As the suggestions flowed, so did the objections and John was quickly running out of options. True, he had chosen names for some Watson family babies but of late there had been no such chances and he was a bit out of touch. Also, the constraints with letters and the name starting with ‘N’ added to his woes. He wanted to Google some baby girl names and come up with more appropriate choices when Sebastian suddenly said, “May I suggest a name, with John’s permission of course.” 

He was polite and sweet and John couldn’t help but give him the permission. “Of course Seb, please go ahead.” 

“How about Natasha?” 

There was stunned silence around. 

“She is a few months old and by my estimates born in December. The name signifies birth on or close to Christmas day and in Latin it means birthday, linking it to Christ. Not very common and not too oddly different either. She can be nicknamed Tasha.” 

“Yes,” Lucy almost jumped, YESSSS.” 

Seeing the look of approval on everyone’s faces and the joy on one of the mothers’, John beamed a fake smile and said, “I couldn’t have proposed a better name than that. Good one Sebastian. Natasha it will be then.” 

“They say that the person who names a child, a part of their style and aura gets imprinted on the baby,” Harry said excitedly, practically bouncing on her chair as she and Lucy held hands, “Read it in some book somewhere about this theory. I have no idea if that’s true or not but I am sure not complaining if little Natasha is a photocopy of Sebastian, a female version of course. She actually has blond hair and blue eyes like you, hope she’s also tall and willowy and has your smile. Thanks a lot, it’s indeed a very lovely name and I am sure she will appreciate it as she grows up.” 

“Um…I need a shower,” John said and walked out. He realized that aside from Sherlock who nodded in acknowledgement, nobody else even noticed his absence. 

Sebastian was not only stealing Sherlock from him, he was slowly taking over most of John’s world and the people around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, are John's visions true or merely hallucinations!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a terrible mistake
> 
> (Dubcon in this chapter)

John was happy when Sebastian left for the Olympic games which were to be held in China. With him gone for a month, he felt he had a breather from all the negativity and fears that surrounded him from all sides. Sherlock spoke about him often, mostly related to the events Sebastian would be competing in, but that he took with a pinch of salt, knowing that even he was eager to watch those events because someone he knew very well personally was a part of them.

 

But he had no idea that negativity, fears, insecurity and jealousy, once fed and formed as a deep well within a person, was not easy to drain.

 

Various incidents happened that kept pulling him back to his chamber of darkness. One day Sherlock showed up at the hospital because it was the annual family day and many doctors and nurses and other workers at the hospital had brought their families in for a visit. There were aged mothers and fathers, curious uncles and aunts and cousins, gurgling babies and rowdy children, moody and sulking teenagers, a few husbands looking oddly out of place and several wives trying to outdo each other with their fashionable outfits and carefully blown out or coiffed hairdos.

 

John kept noticing how several women and young teenaged girls kept looking at Sherlock. They thought they were being discreet but to John they were as obvious as the sunlight on a clear summer day. There were a few men who threw glances at him too, his handsome boyfriend who had the ability to turn heads wherever he went.

 

“Let’s head home,” he said abruptly.

 

Sherlock looked at the drink he had just picked up, a Hoegaarden beer. “Why so suddenly,” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on John.

 

“I don’t feel too well,” John said tersely.

 

“No, there is something else.”

 

Damn him and his deductions. “Who is the doctor, you or me?”

 

“Of course you. But you had planned to stay longer. You invited your best friends to this table, asked me to be here on time, you have even prepared a speech for the families thanking them for their support of this sometimes-thankless job and now you wanna go back home. I see no change in your posture, body temperature or pallor to indicate any sudden illness. What is it John? Have I done something?”

 

John looked away so Sherlock wouldn’t be able to read his eyes. “I am not up for company. Just thinking about some of my upcoming surgeries this week, that’s all.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Let’s go Sherlock.”

 

“All right, we shall. Can I finish this beer at least?”

 

John nodded and waited anxiously, hoping no other ‘Sebastian’ emerged from the noisy crowd in the large cafeteria and started chatting up his man. When Sherlock was finally done, they walked out of the hospital and John made sure they were arm in arm all through. Still he couldn’t help but notice how some of the wives looked at them and spoke in low whispers, how a young man stared in utter envy at him, how two teenaged girls batted their eyelashes at Sherlock and then laughed. There was no telling who or what they were laughing at or about but to John it seemed every stare was fixed on his boyfriend and every laughter aimed at himself.

 

***

 

“You have to tell me why we came back so quickly and suddenly?”

 

Sherlock’s voice, while always welcome to him and often erection inducing, seemed like a droll thing at this moment. John was wallowing in too much self-pity to really indulge him in any way. “You are reading too much into this baby,” he deadpanned.

 

Something set off Sherlock and he sat up in bed and gave John a hard nudge as the older man lay facing the other side. “Don’t baby me,” he scathed, pouting and fuming at the same time, “You keep complaining about my lack of social skills, you keep cribbing I don’t come to your workplace often and when I do, you drag me away from there as if you didn’t want me there in the first place. Agreed, I do very well with deductions when it’s all hardcore data and not so well with emotions, but even for silly young me it’s obvious that something has crawled up your ass and is bothering you. And you’re gonna tell me what it is or I’ll be gone till tomorrow morning.”

 

That was it. _Something snapped inside John_.

 

He sat up and shoved Sherlock back on to the mattress, glowering at him.

 

“John….I….” Sherlock must have noticed that look in his eyes and he paled instantly, as if he was caught doing something wrong.

 

The loud screeching tear of fabric came next as John’s inner beast emerged and he tore and pulled off the sleep shirt and boxers his boyfriend wore to bed that night, grabbing him by the hairs and pulling him back when he tried to protest against this treatment. Pinning Sherlock’s hands above his head and glaring at him with the ferocity of an animal, John spoke in a voice that seemed foreign even to his own ears. It was a harsh, grating voice laced with possessive anger, like a master bullying his slave to submission.

 

“You will go out for the night? What have you thought me to be? Your keeper?”

 

“No….Jawwnn….”

 

“Don’t Jawn me now. You are mine, nobody else’s.”

 

“Oh God….no, what’s wrong with you?”

 

John’s brain had stopped functioning by then. He kept Sherlock pinned to the bed with his entire body and freed one of his own hands to grab the lube from the nightstand drawer. Sherlock saw what was about to happen and struggled more forcefully, fear registering in his eyes. That fear caused John a moment’s hesitation but it was gone the second he remembered Sebastian, remembered all those people throwing lusty glances at Sherlock, remembered how helpless he felt when every eye turned on them seemed to mock him for having a partner that was way out of his league. Sherlock was his! Only his! He was going to claim what was rightfully his!

 

John slicked up his cock and pushed Sherlock’s legs apart.

 

“No John no!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Not like this, no please!”

 

“You will shut up now.”

 

He slid two fingers into Sherlock and the man cried out in semi agony, semi discomfort. But John was good at finger fucking his boy and the moment his fingertips jinked at a position and tickled Sherlock’s prostate, the curly haired beauty cried out with pleasure instead. He kept moving the fingers in and out, not giving him enough time to adjust and open up, just concentrating on getting him loose enough to do the thing.

 

“Yes, you want this too, don’t fight it or you’ll be hurting more.”

 

He pushed his legs apart roughly, grabbed behind the knees and lifted Sherlock’s bum to expose the twitching nervous asshole.

 

Then he plunged inside.

 

Sherlock was not fully ready for him was so tight and hot there that John almost felt as if his penis would melt away and stay trapped in that heavenly little cavern. He held his breath and summoned all his strength to push back the orgasm that seemed to have started bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

 

Then he began to move.

 

Sherlock was squirming and sighing initially but with his passage sufficiently loosened up by John’s thrusts and his body slowly adjusting to the man’s girth, pleasure caught on him and he began to participate, albeit in a resentful, scared manner, trying to pull at John and push him away at the same time. John kept thrusting, keeping Sherlock’s hands pinned over his head while the long legs wrapped around John’s bottom and pushed him in deeper.

 

It was a strange game of cat and mouse for Sherlock, willing and pliant one moment and desperately trying to get free the next. When John let his arms go, they flailed as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

 

John was tense when all this started but soon his mood improved. He felt better and better as he pushed deeper and deeper into Sherlock, testing his limits, observing the minutest changes on his face, loving the way he had the man at his complete disposal and mercy. His cock was buried in Sherlock, that young sexy body was trapped in a cage of his arms, legs and cock, and the way Sherlock moaned and thrashed showed just how much he both loved and hated this. Somehow all of these things served to make John hard as a battering ram and he ploughed into Sherlock, fucking him into the mattress till he had dissolved into a sweaty, pleading, writhing mess.

 

“Oh….Ohhh….” Sherlock went, turning his head from side to side and lifting his torse, “You bastard!”

 

“A bastard am I? A bastard you’re getting fucked by?”

 

“Fuck you…..uhnnnn!”

 

“Look at you begging all pretty and whorish.”

 

“Oh God, OhhhhhhGawwwd!”

 

John made a series of thrusts to Sherlock’s prostate and stopped him from touching himself. He knew his man’s body too well and could see how easily Sherlock could reach climax like this, just from his cock. He kept his eyes fixed on the swollen cock between their bodies, tip glistening with precum and the shaft now a dark purple from the blood that had rushed into it, engorging it to the fullest. As he watched it, he noticed it start to jerk and twitch on its own. Yes, that was it, Sherlock was coming now!

 

“Aaaaaahhhhh,” Sherlock went as the first shot of semen landed on his cheek, spurting out like a jet from a spray nozzle. Then ‘uhnnnn’ several times as more and more creamy cum poured out, painting his smooth, unlined skin and slender torso with evidence of release.

 

John came spontaneously. Just watching Sherlock lose it like this made him come harder than he ever had and he found his arms and legs giving away as he dropped heavily on his partner in the aftermath, still coming hard inside him.

 

When the moment passed and the poisonous tension in his veins soothed a little, he gently pulled out and…..gasped. He looked down at Sherlock, lying limp beneath him and glassy eyed, and a look of horror came over his face.

 

_Oh fuck, what had he just done?_

 

He quickly got off of Sherlock and sat on the bed beside him, hands shaking and mind spinning. Oh no, this wasn’t good, he had raped his lover, he had indulged in something similar to a marital rape, taken his long-term and live-in partner without his consent. What was wrong with him? What sort of a sick, sadistic beast had he become?

 

“Sherlock I….”

 

He couldn’t finish. Maybe after all the animal treatment and forcefulness, this gentle and affectionate tone scared Sherlock or made him realize what had just been done to him, because the man flinched at his touch like he was a cactus bush. Then Sherlock’s entire body started to shake and his lower lip wobbled. Moments later he got out of bed and ran to the bathroom, slamming it shut behind him while John just sat there in stunned shock, loathing himself so much right now he could slit his own throat. He heard the water being turned on inside, and the shower, but even over those sounds he heard his baby boyfriend crying so hard that John’s stomach turned. He sank back on the bed in sorrow and self-directed disgust.

 

Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to face Sherlock for now, that he needed to clear his head and come back with a way to apologize and make it up to his man, John stumbled out of bed and blindly reached into the closet for some clothes. He dressed haphazardly, not even noticing if the clothes were properly buttoned and zipped up or he had worn mismatched socks, and staggered out of the room like a man who had just lost everything.

 

_//You really have lost everything John fucking Watson, you lost your human side, your dignity, you lost your mate, he will never forgive you//_

 

He picked up his car keys and wallet, didn’t bother with his mobile, and stepped out into the darkness of the night.

 

When he returned several hours later, in a cab because he was too drunk to drive and had to leave his car parked outside the pub, he was not surprised to find no signs of Sherlock anywhere in the house. Realizing it was too late to disturb Eva, he returned to the bedroom.

 

The bed was pristine. The sheets changed. Whatever had fallen off the nightstand had been picked up and put back in their right places. But looking at the now-made bed still made John nervy and anxious. An image of himself raping Sherlock floated before his eyes and he rushed to the bathroom and threw up violently. As he finished, bringing out mostly the liquids he had consumed, he saw a note stuck to the bathroom mirror.

 

‘I am going to be with Victor for a couple of days. Don’t try to contact me. My phone is with me but will remain switched off.’

 

Sherlock had left him.

 

The only saving grace was that he had mentioned ‘couple of days’. He had also mentioned Victor Trevor, Sherlock’s other Uni mate besides Sebastian, so he knew where he was.

 

John decided not to call Sherlock but at least call and check with Victor if he had arrived there. After that ghastly incident, he was worried about his boyfriend’s mental stability, he feared he might be too raw and hurting to be able to look after himself properly. He just wanted to let Victor know he was available on call anytime in case Sherlock wanted him.

 

To his surprise when he called the other boy the call first went unanswered, the next time it went into voice mail. At the third attempt Victor answered groggily and informed John he was in his hometown at Sacramento California and Sherlock didn’t even have the address.

 

It’s all my fault, John pulled at his hairs in frustration, all my fault and my stupidity. I chased him away with my appalling behaviour and now he had nowhere to go, where would he go, where would he stay, how much money was he carrying, did he even know his way around?! As the clock ticked by and his concerns for Sherlock’s wellbeing and his overwhelming guilt threatened to choke him, he felt like killing himself. Tense, anxious and totally at his wits’ end, finally John decided to call the only other person who would be able to help both him and Sherlock. He dialled a familiar number and waited impatiently, pacing up and down in the bedroom and muttering ‘Pick it up, for the love of Christ please pick it up right now’.

 

“John?”

 

“Greg!”

 

“What made Sherlock so eager to leave the house at 1 am?”

 

“Is here there?”

 

“He is. He didn’t look too well. I gave him a sedative and sent him to bed. He’s asleep.”

 

“Oh than God….nothing really, just a fight, I will talk to you later.”

 

“I don’t want to know. Talk to him tomorrow if you can. I think you should.”

 

John hung up and cried like a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's not the problem is it, there is no bigger problem than a mind that invents it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John pacifies Sherlock but ends up making a bigger blunder

Sherlock sat on the bed, cross legged, staring at his own hands. A slice of light had fallen on his face, illuminating it in a soft and golden glow. His eyes looked like crystalline marbles, his lashes were long and curved, his lips looked moist as he kept licking them again and again. He was so beautiful, John felt as if he had forgotten that in just two days.

 

Greg had left them in the guest bedroom to talk. His family was out shopping but he remained there, in the living room, watching television.

 

“Look, I have no idea what came over me and why I did what I did,” John said after clearing his throat a little, forcing himself to keep his voice steady and not to start bawling out like a child, “I just saw everyone ogling you and something inside me broke down to bits. I am somewhat possessive, I am a little jealous too, and from that comes a wee bit of insecurity. How can I not be so when I am with a man whom five out of ten people end up worshipping the moment they meet him. But it wasn’t your fault they were staring and what I did to take my frustrations and fears out was unpardonable. I have no words to express how sorry I am, I probably can’t really find the words even if I tried.”

 

Sherlock’s breath hitched and he buried his face in his hands.

 

“I love you Sherlock Holmes. I love you and always will. Please come back home baby. Forgive me, let’s make a fresh start. I promise you, I shall put you first in our relationship from now on. No exceptions, no changes, no diversions, it will always be about you.”

 

Unexpectedly, Sherlock spoke then.

 

“I have no idea if half of the people I meet get attracted to me at first glance or not, but I do know that by the second, third and fourth, they realize I can be a real dick and I have a sharp tongue. Look at me, I don’t have many friends, my academic life and my work as an amateur detective is all I have apart from the life we share. How can you even get so insecure John and in case you did, why couldn’t you have told me? I wanted to talk to you but you…..”

 

“Please Sherlock, we won’t talk about that again. I know you’re cursing me over that but I have cursed myself and judged myself far more harshly than you can imagine. I am deeply sorry babe, all I am asking for is another chance. I will never hurt you again. Whatever you wish for, I will ensure you have it. Even if it kills me to let you have it, I will still go ahead and get it for you.”

 

He bowed his head, eyes pleading, “Please.”

 

“John….I….I missed….you.”

 

“I missed you too, so much.”

 

John was with Sherlock in a second, hugging him tight. Sherlock stiffened up slightly in the beginning but soon realized this was the affectionate, caring John once more. He melted.

 

“God I missed you,” Sherlock shook with emotions. Any other person would have laughed, cried or ranted but poor Sherlock was like a closed bottle, wobbly and shaking but unable to take the lid off and let the fizz of angst escape. John understood and just held him, letting him calm down and get soothed by the solid, firm, grip of his arms.

 

“Come back home,” he whispered into the curls, “It’s not home if you’re not there.”

 

Their lips met in a tentative kiss before it deepened considerably and Sherlock’s hands were moving feverishly over John’s back. John let his hands slide under Sherlock’s shirt and breathed in his scent, realizing only now how much he had missed smelling his lover on their sheets and pillows, on the towels and duvet, on his own skin and the deepest recesses of his mind. If someone’s scent could be a memory, then this was it. A delightful mix of firewood, fresh grass, dew and honey and a hint of what…..cigarettes? Sherlock had been smoking! He pulled back and stared at a guilty looking Sherlock, who refused to meet his eyes.

 

“Started smoking?”

 

“I did smoke before.”

 

“Only occasionally.”

 

“I did smoke a lot in the last two days….sorry.”

 

“Nah, don’t be sorry. It was my fault anyways. Had I not behaved like an ass…..”

 

“Shhhh John, let’s move on.”

 

“Hello lovebirds,” Greg poked his head in, grinning from ear to ear when he saw the two men in a close and tender embrace, “Since things have smoothed over and I have this feeling Sherlock will be leaving with you soon, may I remind you that Sebastian’s event is up next on TV. Yeah, our friend might be winning the gold for his country, so come on and let’s watch it together shall we?”

 

“YES,” Sherlock punched the air and shot out of the room, leaving John in a moment of temporary confusion. He still felt Sherlock’s warmth, still smelled him, yet he was not there. He had ripped himself off of him, to watch Sebastian on television. It hurt. But he wasn’t going to sulk and moan about it. That way he’d only make things worse if he chose to be jealous and spiteful about it.

 

So he trotted out of the room and settled down on a couch, watching the event on television with Greg and Sherlock.

 

“Yes yes yes he is doing well,” Sherlock was bouncing on the bean bag he sat on, “He is leading the field.”

 

Greg looked at John, “You know Seb lost the pistol event. Fourth. Just missed a medal.”

 

“I didn’t know, but that’s sad,” John said, watching Sherlock intently.

 

“Go Sebby go, show them what you’re made of,” Sherlock was all high spirits and broad grins, his hands moving restlessly on his lap in a web of overstimulation, possibly from the borderline Asperger’s syndrome he had.

 

John felt a lightbulb flash through his head, nearly exploding from its sharp white hot brilliance. It shone so bright he was momentarily blinded by it but when he saw things clearly again, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, accompanied by a tightness in his chest. Sherlock looked happy! He looked joyful and excited, more than he did when he had solved a complicated case, much more than he did when he had proved a professor wrong on a theory and established his own credibility as a chemistry expert. He had never seen this kind of unbridled ecstasy on his young lover’s visage under any other circumstances.

 

Sherlock loved Sebastian!

 

Yes, he did, much more than he had ever loved John, or anyone else.

 

He bit down on his bottom lip and analysed the situation in his head. He couldn’t blame twenty-year-old Sherlock for not being able to see reality the way it was, or express it articulately. The brunette was too young and inexperienced for that. Whereas in John he had seen a mentor, a pillar of support during his difficult days, in Sebastian he saw an equal, a friend and confidante, a man after his own heart.

 

Both were tall, had blue green eyes, were nearly the same age, had the same thirst for adventure, shared so many common interests. It was a writing clearly imprinted on the wall and John felt so stupid for not having seen it before. Or maybe, he didn’t want to see it.

 

His own words resonated inside his head now.

 

‘Whatever you wish for, I will ensure you have it. Even if it kills me to let you have it, I will still go ahead and get it for you.’

 

He had effectively pledged for Sherlock’s happiness over his own. And if Sherlock was happier with Sebastian then that was how the future should be for this boy. He was a man of his words and this was his test, he had to push his own needs in the background and let his caring side take over.

 

It would kill him to lose his boyfriend but he’d be a real asshole if he held him back even though Sherlock was less than happy in this life.

 

“OH GOD DAMN IT,” Sherlock groaned.

 

“Hey cheer up,” Greg said, “He won the silver.”

 

“He deserved gold. It’s about what he deserves and not what he got.”

 

Those words struck John like arrows and when he saw Greg trying to console Sherlock he chose to echo the same sentiments. “You are right Sherl, it’s about what people deserve and not what they got. Sometimes people should get more than what they have.”

 

“See,” Sherlock said a bit childishly, “That’s what I was trying to say.”

 

He and Greg went back to watching the podium ceremony while John stared blankly at the television screen and strung his thoughts together. Once Sebastian was back, he’d have a word with the man and find out if Sherlock’s feelings were reciprocated. After removing his jealousy and tossing it away, he found that the blond young man was actually perfect boyfriend material. Tall, handsome, successful, talented, funny, charming and forthright. His eyes scanned the imposing figure that stood on the second step of the podium, chin up, back straight and head erect as he accepted defeat in a dignified manner. Yes, Sebastian was a very likeable fellow, what was there not to like?

 

***

 

The next five days passed uneventfully.

 

Sherlock returned home with John. They resumed their sex life but not as rigorously as they usually went at it. Sherlock was a bit uncomfortable, for obvious reasons, and despite of all of John’s efforts none of them could manage the same spark that existed before.

 

While the doctor thought time would heal wounds and things would smooth over eventually, he couldn’t get the niggling thought that kept irking the back of his brains – Sebastian was the man for Sherlock and he was holding Sherlock back from a lifetime of happiness. John went to work as usual, Sherlock solved a case with Greg and prepared to get back to school in a fortnight, Sebastian came back from the games and dropped by to show his medal. By then a case was going on against the winner of the gold medal in the same event, a south Korean shooter, because of traces of banned substances found in his urine during post event dope tests. Sherlock made his usual deductions and said the investigation should conclude with the shooter being disqualified and Sebastian upgraded to the gold medal.

 

On the sixth day, Sherlock called John at work. “John, I have to go to Houston.”

 

“Houston, why?”

 

“Case. Someone robbed a bank and they framed the wrong man. No money recovered. I feel it’s an inside job. The bank president has engaged me personally and the superintendent of police is going to let me into his team to solve this case. Guess what, they are loaded so I am charging 1% of the recovered loot. That loot could be anywhere between five to seven million bucks.”

 

“Fantastic. Good luck babe. Wait, that means you…”

 

“…..Yeah, I’d be gone for two days at least, maybe three. If I don’t solve the case in three days then I doubt I’d ever solve it. I gotta go now, flight is in two hours and I need to pack a bit too.”

 

“You will solve it love. Take care of yourself and call me okay?”

 

When he returned home that evening he felt a sense of emptiness inside himself as well as in his surroundings. The farmhouse, where he had spent many lonely days and long nights once upon a time, suddenly looked like it had gone back in time and presented its ominously isolated face again. The cheery, earthy, loving vibes it had acquired since Sherlock had come in two years ago had been removed and replaced by gloom. It was as if Sherlock had taken the life out of this place along with him and the walls and roof wept and moped over his absence. John shuddered inside when he thought about the fact that one Sherlock left for good, this would be his life from now on.

 

He went to the bedroom and looked around, feeling slightly better when he saw Sherlock’s socks lying on the floor, a jar of his half-finished cream left uncapped and open on the dresser, the still damp towel lying on the bed and some of his books dumped on a coffee table in the corner. He tidied it all up, taking more time than necessary, so he could feel the exhilaration of holding his lover’s personal belongings just a little longer.

 

He was almost done when he heard his housekeeper.

 

“Dr Watson?”

 

“Yes Eva.”

 

“Mr. Moran is downstairs.”

 

“But Sherlock is not home.”

 

“I told him. He said he’s here to see you.”

 

In a couple of minutes John was walking down the stairwell and Sebastian looked up from the framed certificate he was holding in his hands. “Hey,” he said with a gleeful grin, blue eyes lighting up, “I see you won an award for humanitarian work earlier. You’re quite the talent and philanthropist doc.”

 

“Oh it’s nothing, just something I did during a natural disaster,” John waved it off, “What’s this Seb?”

 

“The best whiskey money can buy, fish and chips and minced pork dumplings my aunt made at home,” the blonde rattled off, looking rather fetching in his sweat pants and form fitted, short sleeved tee, “For the celebrations tonight.”

 

John gave him a wide-eyed look.

 

“I have been upgraded to the gold medal,” Sebastian said with a sense of pride and satisfaction, “The Korean turned out to be on drugs after all so they will be giving me the gold instead. Next month I shall be at Washington DC and the chairperson of the National Olympic Association will be exchanging my silver for gold. Gosh, I can’t believe it! It did really work out at the end.”

 

John felt genuine happiness for him. “That’s excellent news. I wish Sherlock was here. Have you told him?”

 

“The first person I spoke to,” Sebastian said with a beaming smile that just refused to grow smaller with passing seconds, “He was thrilled. In fact he believed I would get the gold more than I believed in myself. But he’s out of town and busy on a case, so I decided to come over and spend some time with you. Mum is out of the country as well, she is visiting dad in England, and they were there in China to cheer me on so I can’t expect them to be back here for another round of support. So, I celebrated first with my uncle and aunt over a nice and long lunch, and now with you in the evening, if you’re okay with it of course.”

 

“I am incredibly okay,” John said, hoping he didn’t look too out of it.

 

Sebastian and Sherlock, Sherlock and Sebastian, he could see them together, holding hands and walking, racing each other on their bikes, laughing at each other’s jokes, Sebastian carrying Sherlock piggyback, something John knew he wouldn’t be able to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After jealousy comes a sense of self-pity and misunderstandings. Poor John, he's about to saw off his own legs in the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John assumes and fucks up

“A cigarette please Sebastian?”

 

“Sure. Didn’t know you smoked though.”

 

“Occasionally, maybe now is the right occasion,” John replied with a wistful smile. He was lying of course, the last time he had smoked was back in medical school and he had never enjoyed it. As he watched Sebastian pour the expensive single malt into two whiskey glasses, adding a little water and some frozen whiskey cubes to dilute and chill their drinks, he again saw Sherlock and Sebastian together, snuggling on the couch. He lit up the cigarette Sebastian had offered, coughed a little, then steadied his lungs and took a few shallow drags. He tried to hold the whiskey glass exactly how the blonde held it, smoking and blowing out smoke rings just as the younger man did. He felt stylish, younger, cooler as he did so.

 

Still the images refused to go away. He saw Sherlock straddling Sebastian’s lap as the larger man suckled on his long neck.

 

Sebastian watched him curiously and then raised his whiskey glass, clinking it with John’s glass and saying ‘cheers’. The two men took their first few sips but while Sebastian kept popping in the dumplings and fries as well, John just nibbled on a slice of fish and kept drinking like alcohol would soon go out of fashion. Soon he was done with his first glass and asked for a refill.

 

“So Seb,” he said after a little while, “You have a girlfriend?”

 

“Nope. Never meant to play on their side.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Had….”

 

“Had?” John asked as he gulped his second drink.

 

“Yeah, he was incredible, someone I worshipped. The most brilliant and beautiful mind, those eyes, those dark hairs, slim as a reed, yeah that was my man. Then something happened, we parted and my world fell apart. He had someone else in his life and then….”

 

“That person has to step away,” John murmured. He appreciated Sebastian’s honesty. He was narrating their tale, the ballad of Seb, Sherlock and John. He extended his glass towards the younger man for another refill.

 

“One more?” Sebastian blinked.

 

John stared at Sebastian’s glass, a little remaining of his first drink, and said, “You are going pretty slow for a man who’s celebrating a big success.”

 

Sebastian looked at his glass and chuckled deep in his throat. “Well doc, I don’t know if I am going slow or you’re going too fast. You seem to be enjoying your freedom away from the missus are you not?”

 

John had to laugh, “He is hardly the missus. By the way, have you thought about getting married? We homosexuals can marry now, we just need to be in the right state and it can be a proper church wedding and civil union, just like a man and woman would go through.”

 

Sebastian handed John his second drink and refilled his own glass for a second. Still chuckling he said, “Of course I will get married. If you insist I’ll do that tomorrow, right here in Texas and I don’t care if it’s legally allowed or not.” His face fell a little and he added, “But it’s important that I have that one thing with me, that one most crucial thing, without which I doubt I can get married and settle down with the man of my dreams. That one thing, or person, happens to be a man who’d be willing to marry me too. I can do a lot of things solo doc but marrying is a two-people affair huh?”

 

His sense of humour caught on and John started smiling as well. “Good one Seb. But I doubt you’re lacking opportunities here.”

 

“Well, not everyone is as lucky as you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“To have a man like Sherlock….I mean he is such an awesome guy, what a sharp brain he has, and you are the lucky man that owns him. Once I thought I’d be married to some genius like that but….let’s see…!”

 

Hours later, after Sebastian had gone back home, John staggered into the bedroom and fell on the bed. He lay there, face down, crying his eyes out. Whatever doubts he had in his mind had been wiped off after that chat with Seb. That boy loved Sherlock, he adored the curly haired beauty’s brilliance, but because Sherlock was already spoken for he had chosen to take a step back and pretend nothing was going on.

 

Honourable Sebastian. Selfish John.

 

Deprived Sherlock.

 

“No,” he groaned as he rubbed at his throbbing temples, “Sherlock will have the best in this world. Whatever he wants, I shall give him.”

 

He passed out under the influence of liquor but still couldn’t stop seeing the two of them in various situations and circumstances, from a skiing holiday to rock climbing, from attending a concert together to cuddled up in bed, he saw them all the time. And they looked so utterly happy in John’s dreams and visions that the strangling feeling of guilt started to choke him down completely.

 

***

 

“Dr Oppenheimer is back,” Molly announced.

 

In any other situation John would have just listened and not said a word but today he was a bit too disturbed to let that slide off. He looked sharply at Molly and said, “Can I ask you a question Ms Hooper?”

 

Molly was clearly startled by his tone. The nurse, though taken aback, quickly nodded in agreement. John tossed the pen down on the desk, leaned back in his chair and said, “Imagine for a moment that you are in a relationship, you love the other person but the other person has compromised somewhat to be with you. Then someone else comes along and he seems to be the perfect fit for your partner, you see glaring examples of how well they fit in together, how good they would be for each other. If you truly love the person you are with, would you hold them back in their half-baked life or let them go free so they can start all over again?”

 

“I don’t understand doc.”

 

“Oh yes you do. You are the relationship expert here.”

 

“Um…I have had a few relationships yes, but I am hardly the expert.”

 

“Oh Molly Hooper, answer the question already.”

 

“Is this about Oppenheimer?”

 

“It could be anybody. Don’t let it colour your lenses. Don’t think of faces and names. Just think about any couple, man-woman, man-man, woman-woman, and give me the first answer on the top of your head.”

 

She shrugged, suddenly looking like she was at a loss for words. “I dunno if anyone can be so altruistic,” she answered slowly, weighing out each and every word carefully, “But if such a person exists, I think they should talk to their partner and tell them what they intend to do. If they have read it all wrong, then it could be a disaster. Their partner could see this as a way to push them away.”

 

“Thanks Molly,” John went back to work abruptly.

 

“Doc….is everything all right?”

 

“Oh yeah all is well, everything is good and shiny.”

 

After she had left, John made up his mind once and for all. He had to do this right away.

 

There were some foreboding scenarios and possibilities floating in his head. There were clear signs the universe was giving him that Sherlock was trying to soften the blow on him and also trying to take his family on-board with his decision to quit this relationship. He had recently noticed that Sherlock was talking to Mycroft regularly, suspiciously frequently, and was even mentioning over dinner the other day that he wanted to pay a visit to his parents in Houston. Considering the fact that he had paid a visit to them only ten days ago during his trip to Houston for a case, something just didn’t add up.

 

He texted Sherlock. ‘Let’s head to ‘Three Quarters Chinese’ for dinner tonight?’ In ten minutes he got the response ‘Yesss, thanks, I always wanted to go there.’

 

***

 

John felt a warm flush around his ears when Sherlock walked into the posh, high-end, Michelin star restaurant. He looked sharp and smart in a new dark purple suit and pastel lilac coloured shirt, shiny loafers on his feet, the lack of tie making him look smart and cool, like any gorgeous twenty-year-old. Correction, he was not just ‘any’ gorgeous twenty-year-old, he was the unearthly gorgeous Sherlock, and almost all the women and some men had turned to look at him. Some of them had noodles hanging out of their mouths as they forgot to chew and swallow and under any other circumstances John might have even found that funny. But tonight, he only found that heart-breaking. Tonight was when he was going to set Sherlock free to pursue his true love.

 

“Thanks,” Sherlock took his seat, “For this outfit and this dinner.”

 

He rubbed his hands in glee and murmured ‘where’s the menu’. John handed him one and the brunette quickly ordered a wine, a bamboo shoot and mushroom starter and a nice duck entrée for himself. The LED candles on the table made his eyes look a lovely bright blue and it almost matched the hues on his clothes, his skin glowing with vitality and something else that John couldn’t quite name. “Jawwn,” Sherlock looked at him, appalled, “You are smoking? YOU? How come? Here I thought you had chosen this section because you might let me smoke one after our meal.”

 

“I thought you’d like a man who smokes and drinks whiskey,” John raised his glass.

 

“Hmmm, I am okay with that but why would I like smokers? Honestly speaking, I am trying to do a cold turkey myself.”

 

“You look beautiful Sherl.”

 

“You look handsome John.”

 

“You….you don’t have to return the compliment.”

 

Sherlock looked confused, “But that is the truth. You have the self-assurance and confidence of a man who’s been there and done that, who’s seen rough days and handled them well, many people I know think that too. In fact Sebastian was saying the other day…..”

 

“About Sebastian,” John stopped him, “I just wanted to say I’m very happy for both of you.”

 

Sherlock frowned, “What?”

 

When John didn’t give an immediate answer the younger man looked suspicious. He looked at John closely and then gave a one shoulder shrug, “I didn’t understand at all. What are you implying?”

 

John cleared his throat and smiled graciously, trying not to blink because then his tears would fall. “I know about the two of you. I know you talk a lot and consult each other on everything. I also know you wanted to tell your parents about your decision to be with Sebastian from now on, which is why you have been talking to Mycroft almost every day. I spent some time with Seb too, when you had gone for that case. He told me he’d very much like to be with someone like you, a man with a razor-sharp brain and enough brilliance to fill up a galaxy. So I thought, why don’t I just step away….no hard feeling, this isn’t even charity, I had said I’d give you all you ask for and this is my way of…..”

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Sherlock shouted.

 

“Shhhh,” John was aware of heads turning in their direction.

 

“I don’t fucking care,” Sherlock snapped, “You are giving me up? No, wait, you are asking me to go away, oh no hang on, you just said that I am having an affair with Sebastian behind your back and I spoke to Myc…..Mycroft on this? Did you just say all this? Oh God….”

 

“Sherlock I…..”

 

“Here I thought this gift, this dinner, was for our second anniversary.”

 

The words hit John like a thunderbolt. Of course, this was their second anniversary. How had he forgotten? It began to strike him hard that he might have made a gross error of judgment but before he could finish, Sherlock stood up.

 

“I went home because dad was supposed to go into a heart bypass surgery. I was speaking to Myc to find out how it went and how he’s recovering. I wanted to go home again to check on him, just maybe an hour but to check….as for Seb, he loves someone else and I was his confidante and friend through the hellish time he had….oh John, how could you even think we are…..Sebastian loves that man so much he attempted suicide after breaking up with him…..”

 

John’s head reeled. Oh no, he had fucked up again, big time.

 

“I am leaving John,” Sherlock was barely able to speak as he choked up, “I see no point in staying with a man who’s so insecure he can’t see facts as facts. I can’t stay with a man who doesn’t trust me, especially when I have given him no reason to feel otherwise.”

 

John watched him leave and felt like a part of his life, his heart and his very reason for living the rest of his life had just slipped out of his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does John deserve Sherlock back  
> Will Sherlock give him another chance  
> Who does Sebastian really love
> 
> We will find out soon.....


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You rise in love, literally!

“Hello John?”

 

“Hey Mycroft, is Sherlock….”

 

“I wanted to talk to you about him,” Mycroft sounded very different from his usual self that day, almost polite and cautious. He had sounded standoffish and manipulative when he had first come to meet John but since then their relationship had mended, mostly because both he and John had realized they had a common thread between them, namely Sherlock, and that boy was dear to both. John had long since realized, especially after Mycroft had attended the Thanksgiving dinner at their place, that the managing partner of a law firm who was also a senator, did look out for his sibling in his own slightly unconventional ways.

 

“Yeah…is he okay?”

 

“He is pretending to be but I must say I can clearly see he’s not. He was supposed to come over to see dad but he hadn’t planned on staying here for this long. It’s been three days and it’s quite unlike Sherlock to not even talk about going back to Austin.”

 

“We…we had a fight.”

 

“I thought so too. Most couples fight from time to time, sometimes a bit too much. However, he is young, inexperienced and stubborn. I suppose it’s not too much to ask for that you be the mature one and clear things out. Maybe you could start by coming over here to pick him up and take him back where he belongs. Yeah, I can’t believe I am saying this but I do feel he belongs there. I have seen very positive changes in him since he started living with you, so…..”

 

“I will. I was hoping if he’d talk to me first.”

 

“I’m presuming you’re asking this because he’s not answering your calls?”

 

“He isn’t.”

 

“Then come over. He won’t talk to you over the phone. I know my brother.”

 

“Just once?” John was almost pleading.

 

“It’s best if he sees your body language and the sincerity in your eyes when you apologize. That’s not going to happen over a phone call. Come over and talk to him, he loves you, I can vouch for that. You love him too, I suppose I’m observant enough to believe that as well.”

 

John sighed, “Sure Myc. I will be there tomorrow morning.”

 

He had barely disconnected the call when Eva appeared at the doorway to say there were two guests waiting for him. She seemed a bit annoyed and her voice was tight. John supposed she was upset with him too because Sherlock’s sudden departure had put doubts in her mind about John’s role in it. She loved Sherlock a lot and blamed John every time the amateur detective was even a tiny bit upset, and in this case it was a serious thing, so her anger was justified. Sherlock had packed and left the house with very telling signals that this wasn’t just a small trip for a case but a much longer arrangement.

 

John walked out to the den and froze.

 

The two guests were not who he had expected. One was familiar though while the other was not. Sebastian Moran and a smaller man, a brunette, was standing in a close embrace by the window and looking deeply into each other’s eyes. They were so engrossed in their romantic moment that they didn’t even hear John coming in. They stayed liked that, holding each other and murmuring softly to one another, Sebastian with his head bowed and the smaller man on tippy toes, smiling like an angel at him. John’s hands shook and he supported himself against the doorframe, hurriedly blinking away the tears from his eyes.

 

_It reminded him of what he had lost through his blind foolishness._

 

He cleared his throat and they jumped apart. Sebastian wrapped an arm around his mate and said, “John, I am going away to Los Angeles for a month so I thought….why not introduce my fiancé to you and Sherlock. He’s heard so much about you both that he was curious too and so….here we are….where is Sherlock?”

 

John felt a crushing weight on his chest and had to swallow several times before he could speak. “He’s visiting his dad, I think the old man had a surgery.”

 

“Oh yes,” Sebastian remembered, “By the way, meet James Isaac Moriarty, my Jimmy, the man I love and the man who finally agreed to wear my ring.” He held up the smaller man’s hand on which the fourth digit was adorned with a magnificent platinum and solitaire ring.

 

John looked at the smaller man and understood the attraction Sebastian felt towards him. He was taller than John but not too tall, built like a gymnast with the right amount of muscles but an overall lean structure, a boyish smile that could light up a room and big brown beautiful eyes.

 

“Very pleased to meet you Jim,” he said as he shook his hand, “You are a very lucky man. Seb is an excellent man’s man!”

 

“Thank you,” the man replied in a soft voice but his grip was firm, and his posture suggested extreme self-confidence.

 

“Oh I am the lucky one,” Sebastian gushed, “Jimmy is a Caltech topper, a ‘Young Genius’ award winner several times over, an expert piano player and he has launched several start-up companies. He sold two of his start-up ventures to organizations like Siemens and Oracle. He is a wunderkind, acknowledged for his Einstein level talent. We had a bit of a misunderstanding and broke up…but of late…we reconciled and this time I am keeping him.”

 

“I am going nowhere,” Jim said, unabashedly snuggling into Sebastian’s side, “We were young and stupid then….but we are wiser now. I think I must thank Sherlock too, he wrote to me a few times and made me see reason. I was behaving like a jerk.”

 

“Good luck both of you,” John replied, more determined than ever to bring his Sherlock back home now. He was happy for them but guilt and self-loathing was clawing at his heart and he knew he would fall at Sherlock’s feet if necessary in order to earn his forgiveness. The brunette genius Sebastian had mentioned on that night they had been drinking together was Jim, not Sherlock. How incredibly stupid had he been!

 

***

 

John stood on the terrace of the villa where Mr and Mrs Holmes lived, nestled in the midst of a classy neighborhood that was green and serene and dripping with money. Their neighbors, just as rich and influential as the Holmes family was, provided the additional aura of an elegant, aristocratic surroundings with their elegant houses, landscaped gardens and swanky cars. It was difficult for him to associate Sherlock with this place, that kid lacked the snobbery and pretentiousness of this neighborhood and the neighbors, he had a refreshing honesty about him which was rare in this world.

 

John gripped the edge of the railings and peered down at the lawns below. He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a moment’s temptation to jump off.

 

Sherlock’s spirit was the best thing about him, more important and precious than his blue-green jewel eyes, his sculpted cheekbones, his chiseled chin, the dewy cupid bow lips or the long, flowing gorgeous body. Yet, that same indomitable, beautiful spirit was what John had crushed so stupidly and cruelly under his feet. He didn’t have a right to forgiveness anymore, all he could do was to apologize to Sherlock and leave. If he had done some good deed in the past, if he had truly repented for his mistakes, maybe Sherlock would come back later. If he didn’t, John knew he’d end his miserable life.

 

He leaned forward just a bit more.

_“JOHN NO!”_

 

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back with such force he lost his balance and fell down on the ground on his ass. Startled and a little dazed, he looked up at Sherlock who looked truly terrified. “What were you trying to do Jawn?”

 

“I was….”

 

“I saw, _you were trying to jump_ …”

 

“Sherlock listen to me, I don’t want you to be distressed because of me, not anymore. I plan to have a little chat with you and leave you in peace. I….I have found out everything, I met Sebastian and Jim, I saw how happy they were and like an idiot I just…..oh God baby, I have been so blind, so foolish, so insensitive.”

 

“No,” Sherlock said quietly.

 

“No? How can you say that?”

 

“I can,” Sherlock said quietly, leading John away from the edge and making him sit on a patio chair, and sitting on another one next to him. He coughed a bit to clear his throat and said, “I thought about what you said that day at the restaurant. I even added two and two together and thought about the incident that happened earlier, in bed, and it became clear to me. Your behaviour, I can understand it now. You were scared to lose me at first, which was the reason behind your jealousy. Later you were afraid I’d be with you but unhappily so, that’s why you were ready to let me go.”

 

“What does that make me Sherlock?” John asked, eyes watery.

 

“Stupid, an asshole who jumps to conclusions, insecure not so old man who thinks he’s much inferior than his boyfriend, a blind bat who has no idea that the only man I love, adore, respect and want to be with is John Hamish Watson.”

 

John grabbed his boyfriend’s hands, “Sherl?”

 

“John….”

 

“Just forgive me. I can’t expect you to come back home but I hope someday you will.”

 

“What are you saying John? You really think I can live without you? You think this is home for me? No, that’s my home, the farmhouse, those animals, those fields, that place, Austin, you and me, that’s where I belong Jawwn.”

 

They hugged hard, laughing and crying and John felt a touch of providence on his life. He had no idea if he deserved this stroke of luck but he was sure as hell he wouldn’t fuck up this time around. John kissed Sherlock’s wet cheeks, his dry lips, the corners of his mouth, his long throat, his ears, his hairs, everywhere his lips could reach. Sherlock kept crying silently while John, though not weeping exactly, couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

 

“I was an idiot. I just felt so small next to Seb,” John confessed.

 

“He’s a great guy,” Sherlock said, “But he belongs to that little megalomaniac. Jim’s brilliant but he’s as stupid as you. He let go of Seb and Seb fell apart. He got thrown out of Caltech and was a mess when he came to the University of Texas. I was his friend, just his friend.”

 

“God, I wish I could turn the clock back and correct my actions.”

 

“He always told me, he envied the life you and I share.”

 

John looked miserable, “If only he knew how I had been thinking about this whole thing!”

 

“You promise we will talk through every issue,” Sherlock asked in a hopeful voice, “No more assumptions and delusions, no more fights and leaving the house in a huff, no more separations unless you have a medical seminar or I have a case to handle.”

 

“I promise,” John said as he picked Sherlock up in his arms, something that always made Sherlock blush because he was half a head taller and yet John could easily lift him, “I vow. Now let’s go home, let’s go home, _let’s just go back home_.”

 

***

 

It was a little odd, a bit awkward for the first two nights. Days were fine because they were busy and mostly occupied with their profession or studies, John at the hospital and Sherlock at the University, but the moment evening came they felt a little spaced out and tense. Though they had chosen to put an effort at getting back together, John by paying that much-needed pilgrimage to Sherlock’s parental home and apologizing and Sherlock by looking at the truth through the lens of logic and not emotions, it wasn’t easy to forget the unsavory moments from the recent past.

 

On the third day John decided to make an exception, took the day off, and cooked a big breakfast for Sherlock. Later he took his boyfriend for a test ride of a Harley Davidson and then to a railway museum, which he knew Sherlock liked to visit from time to time.

 

After a nice dinner at the same restaurant where they had separated acrimoniously a week ago, they came back home happy, smiling and a little tired and tipsy. After brushing their teeth, they fell into bed without their clothes, John horny as hell and Sherlock suddenly acting like a virginal, blushing, teen bride. Though he looked cute like that, John knew his boyfriend had something on his mind and remembered his promise that they’d always talk through all situations. “Hey,” he said, holding Sherlock down and hovering over him, eyes on his rosy cheeks, “What got you all blushing like this?”

 

“I…uh…when…um….that night when you did me, all forceful, it felt very demeaning then but later, when I remembered those moments I was ehm….very turned on and if you’re okay….”

 

John’s eyes widened, “Sherl, you want me to do a role play? _Pretend I am raping you_?”

 

“With my consent of course,” Sherlock looked at him through puppy eyes.

 

John got piping hot under the collar at this suggestion. So Sherlock had this kink! But he was not going to rape him even if Sherlock begged him for it. That would be too close to the disastrous mistake he had made and there couldn’t…..wouldn’t be any repeat.

 

“I have an idea honey,” he said, “And I have the props and stuff I need to make it happen.”

 

Twenty minutes later, the scenario in the bedroom had changed. Sherlock was sure he was going to implode if John didn’t do something real soon. He was in slave position on the bed, naked apart from a leash and collar, a smallish vibrator in his ass and lipstick and mascara on his lips and lashes. John stood before him with a whip, a soft feather whip but a nice long one which would give him a soft, caressing sting as it came down on his sensitive skin. Clad in leather pants and nothing else, John looked like the epitome of hotness and dominance, the cologne he had used just now adding to the virility of his natural scent.

 

God, he wanted John so bad. He could see the outline of the older man’s impressive cock, trapped in those tight leather trunks, leaving nothing much to imagination. He licked his lips and let out a small moan.

 

“Now listen to me very carefully,” John smacked Sherlock on the ass, one on each cheek, with the feathery whip and the younger man yelped in surprise and arousal, his cock surging upwards, “I will first fuck your mouth and then play with you. If you are good and obedient and let me come three times, I’ll make you come twice. And I might just let you fuck my mouth as well. But if you come unless you’re permitted to and before I finish my three shots, we stop everything and you’ll not only go to bed high and dry but also with that vibrator still lodged in your twinky ass.”

 

Sherlock shivered, “Hnnnnn!”

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

John popped open the buttons on his leather pants and his iron rod like cock sprang out, bobbing free of its confines. Sherlock salivated at the sight of the eight and half inches of pure man meat, a prominent vein on the underside, swollen slick glans and a thick long shaft. It had the perfect curve too and he loved how that enabled John to nudge his prostate or the roof of his mouth, depending on which hole John was fucking.

 

He obediently opened his lips and took John in.

 

John knew that as a dom he was not supposed to be making too much noise but that mouth felt so good around his cock that he let spill a grunt. Quickly he composed himself and started fucking that hot mouth, holding Sherlock by his curls and pushing his head back.

 

In a couple of minutes he came like a torrential downpour, shooting a copious load. But he pulled out half way and came over Sherlock’s long neck instead. “Good boy,” he whispered as he rubbed the essence all over the younger man’s chest and shoulders, “Lie down.”

 

Pushing Sherlock on his front he fucked the younger man’s ass cleft, rubbing his still swollen dick over the crack and the puckered opening, feeling the vibrations from the toy running through his groins as well. Sherlock growled and howled but kept himself in check.

 

When he came in about ten minutes, John saw stars. Seeing Sherlock this submissive and accommodating was a huge turn on. But he realized he had possibly overcommitted. He couldn’t come another time unless he gave at least an hour’s gap now. But it would be cruel to keep Sherlock waiting that long, so he relented and doused his fingers with lube, pushing three inside the already loosened hole, turning the vibrator to its highest setting.

 

“OH FUCK, fuck Jawn, oh yeah this is so good, I can’t….I can’t hold it….please…oh yeah Jawwnn, make me, let me cum pleeeease!” Sherlock’s needy cries and incessant thrashing suddenly made John get all randy again and a shark like grin spread over his face.

 

“Cum little horny bastard,” he whispered.

 

Sherlock was so on the edge that he came even before John had finished speaking. His cum spurted forth in such forceful shots that he was painted with it all over, even getting one on his jaw and another on his pillow. Seeing his sexy boyfriend lose it like a grand mal seizure was enough to breathe life back into John’s sated libido and in the next few seconds he had lifted Sherlock’s long legs over his shoulders and entered him right next to the toy. Sherlock shuddered on, eyes opening and closing, mouth open, drooling from one corner, hands shaking on the headboard he held on to. He didn’t even seem to feel the breach till John made the first thrust.

 

“Unnungunnngunnggg….Jaw…Jawnn…Johhhn.”

 

“Yeah baby, let’s go flying,” John said, fucking him into the next century.

 

Since Sherlock had just come, he took a little longer to reach his orgasm. In the meantime John shocked himself by reaching a third climax so quickly that he felt like a seventeen year old all over again, quick climaxes and low refractory period. Once he had deposited his meagre semen inside Sherlock’s arse, he pulled himself and the vibrator out and re-inserted his fingers, licking at the piss slit on his boyfriend’s glans.

 

Sherlock came with a screech and fell unconscious from exhaustion and overstimulation.

 

***

 

“How long did I sleep?” Sherlock asked, not sure what time of the day it was.

 

“Thirteen hours,” John laughed, playing with his hairs, “It’s two in the afternoon right now.”

 

Sherlock rolled over, “Never knew you had leather pants and that whip.”

 

John kissed his cheek, “Never knew you’d enjoy this role play so much.”

 

“John, we will be okay, always.”

 

“Yes love. Ups and downs are a part of relationships in the early days. But we won’t have them always if we learn from the recent setbacks. In fact, I’m the one who needs to learn.”

 

“Me too,” Sherlock switched off his phone, “Sebby and Jim have been sending me pics from their vacation in Cancun, Mexico. I’ll look at them, but later on. Right now, it’s just about you and me.”

 

John cuddled him, “That would be nice. By the way….I love you Sherlock. Happy belated second anniversary. Those things you saw last night, the leather, the leash, the cuffs, collar, vibrator, whip, makeup, they were meant to be one of ‘our’ gifts for the occasion.”

 

Blue green eyes gleamed with wicked joy, “You wouldn’t also have a _pair of cuffs hidden in that magical bag of gifts,_ would you John. I’d like to cuff you to bed and ride you till you have no idea where your dick ends and my ass begins.”

 

John felt a rise between his legs and had to force himself not to let his hands trail down there. Throwing a cheeky wink at his horny young boyfriend he said thickly, “Who knows, I might have a pair. You can never say, I might even have a double headed dildo in there too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading, commenting, sending kudos and ideas my way! It was a fun ride but this series is now over. Next up in the JohnLock world will be one-shots from Baker Street. You can expect smut and more smut!

**Author's Note:**

> This is angst heavy and based around human relationships, insecurities and misunderstandings
> 
> 4th instalment of the series. Please read Lonely Rancher and the Juvenile, Two Crows Joy and A Bit not Good to get better context. This can also be a standalone work.


End file.
